drinking

If you get all your life advice from popular music, as this girl does, you might not be aware that there are some adverse effects to drinking. Even the ones that taste like fruit drinks can make you a bad driver. Did you know that? I didn’t until a DJ told me. He saved my life.

It was last Cinco de Mayo, during one of the times at the club when everyone shouts the word “Shots!” over and over again in a wild chant. I wasn’t able to join in because I was doing a party yawn, or if you’re a doctor, a barf. It was the second or third one I’d done that night. You’re welcome, Mexico!

I fell down on a couch, but then I realized the couch was wearing a belt, and it had legs too. I know because it was standing up. My party balance isn’t so good sometimes. It turned out to be a DJ. I party yawned on him and I think some of my dinner got in his right front pocket.

He tried to help me up and I think he asked me where my friends were, but I was doing a party dance at the time, or what doctor’s call “seizure due to alcohol poisoning.” I then voided my bowels, or what we call a party fart, but I think that was because the DJ wasn’t paying attention and a Matt & Kim song came on.

Anyway, I was so embarrassed that I party farted on the nice DJ that I pulled out my keys and that’s when the DJ said those sweet words that saved my life. I’ll never forget them.

He said, “What the hell’s wrong with you?” I think that was it. Actually, maybe one of the party wagon drivers said that. That’s what we call EMT’s. Anyway, he definitely said I should stop drinking and pooping and barfing in people’s pockets.

That DJ saved my life, and my Cinco de Mayo. Hooray for me and Mexico too!

Listen up, bitches. I can trace 5% of my history back to Ireland, so kiss me. It’s St. Patrick’s day! I deserve it. Right, Julie? Haha! Wait… what? Kristin? Okay, Kristin. What the fuck ever. This is my holiday. Hang on.

What, Trisha? I’m just hanging out. What are you doing? Just let me have some fun! Right, guys?

It’s nothing. She’s my wife. Didn’t even want to come here just cause she had a baby a few days ago, but I was like Trish fuck that. You know I’m 5% Irish. We are going down to McGonnigan’s and drinking some Guinness or my name isn’t Anthony Giovanni. Right, ladies? Kiss me I’m Irish!

Got a little wing sauce on the ol’ face and the ol’ shirt and a bit on the ol’ pant leg but fuck it, right? St. Pat’s! Woo! Basically any bitches who don’t kiss me today are racist against Irish people. Right? Hey! Partying over here, ladies. Focus.

Hey! Hey! Are y’all like, best friends or something? I heard you should ask chicks that. Probably read it on like Facebook or something. So are you? You guys want to do a shot? It’s fucking St. Patricks day! Yeah! Get pumped up!

Ugh. I’ll be right back.

Okay hey what’s up? I had a hard time finding you guys! You moved to a totally different part of the bar. I just had to head into the bathroom for a little puke’n’rally but I’m back now and feeling strong. Also dropped a deuce. Must have been the taquitos from earlier.

Anyway, want to do a couple shots, huh? Let’s do it! St. Patrick’s day! Woo! Time to kiss me, because I am Irish, just like the shirt says.

I want to make money, and I plan to do it through business. You know what I mean when I used the term “business?” I’m talking buy low, sell high. I’m talking retweeting Seth Godin. I’m talking business.

Get on the business train with me by ingesting these ten tips I whipped right out of my leg join.

1. Encourage your employees to give a shit – I can’t stress this enough. That assneck Brandon doesn’t care about his job at all. He works in the warehouse, though, so it’s okay. I tried encouraging him earlier but he said he’s been working here longer than I’ve been wearing big boy underwear. I don’t even know what difference that makes. I have read parts of all of Seth Godin’s books. Has he? Doubt it.

2. Interrupt people as much as possible – There’s nothing more important in business than asserting your dominance over other people. Whatever you’ve just thought of is way, WAY more important than letting Jimmy from the Muskogee plant finish his stupid story anyways. That guy drinks white wine. Fuck him a million times.

3. Spend a lot of time at the lake – At home people expect you to drink like six or twelve beers maximum. I haven’t been able to get a buzz drinking like that since I was 14. But as soon as you get near the lake you can chug coldies at a normal rate and no one bats an eye. It’s therapy without therapy.

4. Wearing bifocal glasses can keep you from eyeballing cleavage, plus makes you look smart – I got this pair at Walgreen’s. I keep them in my shirt pocket and I pop them on my face whenever Deborah is walking around with her trap set. Yeah, breasts are a trap. Woman act all innocent but as soon as you cop a feel of what they’re putting out there they go and tell on you to your wife, your boss, everyone. Better to just slip on the bifocals and be none the wiser.

5. Eat out every day – You need calories, and restaurants have calories. Better than that, they have beer. Just try cracking a coldie that you brought with your brown bag lunch in the break room. Everyone will flip their shit. But you can go out to lunch at Spennigan’s and have a Sam Adams right in front of the boss and it’s totally cool.

Animals are lucky. They live here. I have to call Uber to get home. PHOTO: JoyTek

ATLANTA–Last Tuesday marked the first inaugural “Beasts and Beer Fest” at Zoo Atlanta. While critics and patrons loved the event, it resulted in a number of drunk animals — that number being “All of them.”

“There wash a sign that said Do Not Feed The Animals,” said attendee Steve Bartholemew in slurred speech. “No sign said Do Not Intoxicate The Animals.”

Beer vendors from around the United States participated. They did not know their samples would make cheetahs start sprinting before stumbling, growling “Oh fuck it,” and passing out underneath trees. Or that elephants would use their trunks to spray gallons of beer on patrons like they were in a wet T-shirt contest.

A particularly lonely seal stayed in a corner and barked the melody to “One Is The Loneliest Number” for approximately three hours before it lost its voice.

Cocoa, widely regarded as the smartest ape in the world, broke into her new trainer’s office and called her former trainer approximately 27 times in what can only be described as the world’s first drunk monkey dial.

“She just kept grunting into the phone,” said her former trainer, Gary Plumer. “We know a few speech patterns of hers, and that one meant ‘Come back. Sorry. Come back. Sorry.’ Quite sad, really.”

Subsequently, Cocoa was sent to a local chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous. She’s since doing better but has undertaken a heavy smoking habit.

A baby panda in a drunken rage killed another baby panda, resulting in the cutest murder ever. The baby panda isn’t being charged because it’s a minor. Also because it’s a panda.

A group of intoxicated sloths climbed on top of a police cruiser and didn’t move for twelve hours. They had to be scraped off with shovels.

“All in all it was a wonderful event,” said zoo spokesperson Todd McGill while he ate lunch in the cafeteria. “I think we’ll try it again next year as long as we get tons of coffee and aspirin. I’ve never seen so many hungover animals in my life. I’ve also never seen so many dumb animals puking. Unless you count an episode of Jersey Shore.”

ATLANTA–Trees, tipsy after indulging in a few too many pints of water during a rain storm and out for a bit of juvenile fun, are targeting Midtown cars today, falling on them and endangering their drivers.

Reporters spoke with Treebark the Awkward, a local Druid and part-time computer repair technician.

“Oooh yes! The trees are enraged,” said the green-cloaked Treebark, whose barely visible work identification also named him as “Steve.” “They seek reprisals for such crimes against their kind as pollution, global warming, and chewing gum. Woe be to he that parks under a midtown member of the Wood People. Woe, I say!”

Treebark went on to explain that trees in the Midtown area, while normally reserved and not given to physical displays, get a bit tipsy when there’s a lot of water in the ground, then goad each other into falling on houses or cars, causing damage and potentially injuring humans.

When pressed to explain the trees motivation for committing what amounts to suicide, since most get chain sawed up and hauled away to clear roadway obstruction, Treebark shrugged.

“What can I say?” he asked. “Trees are nihilists. They believe in nothing.”

If you get shot while drinking a shot, you win and lose at the same time.

ATLANTA–Atlanta Mayor Joaquin Snead announced the official Independance Day drinking game for 2012 this morning, called “Fireworks or Gunshots.” In it, participants try to guess whether the explosions they are hearing over the Atlanta skyline on the evening of their nation’s birthday are joyful fireworks or incoming small arms fire.

“Everyone knows we have a significant amount of gunfire in our city,” said Snead, speaking to reporters on the capitol steps this morning. “I figure, why not make a game of it and have a little fun? Right?”

The mayor cautioned citizens to drink responsibly, and warned that firearms should always be considered a safety hazard, but added that people are going to “do crime and stuff anyways,” so he wasn’t going to waste his time trying to be a downer if no one is paying attention.

“I might be the mayor,” Snead said. “But I’m still a player. Know what I mean? This guy right here does. All right!”

Georgia Tech student Fred Ternity is excited to try the game out tomorrow night.

“I think I have a pretty good chance of winning this game,” said Ternity. “In fact, I don’t think you can really lose unless someone is firing a gun at you while you’re playing.”

“In that case, both the shooter and the shootee would be disqualified and their beers or other libations forfeit,” confirmed Mayor Snead via phone later in the day.

Other ways to lose the game include making out with someone who isn’t very hot, getting arrested for DUI, or losing one’s debit card. In any of the above cases, the loser is required to sing the theme song from 2004’s Team America World Police at top volume no less than five times.

The Atlanta Banana would like to wish everyone a safe and happy Independence Day, and urges you to practice responsible drinking and gunfire.

ATLANTA–Our fair city is drawing breath today to begin celebrating the history of St. Patrick, some kind of a priest or something, in remembrance of his great contributions because beer. Holy shit, so many beers.

Harvey Notherwan, Professor of United Kingdom at Emory, confirmed that St. Patrick’s day holds particular significance for Atlantans.

“Oh yes, we are going to slam down some coldies with a fierceness,” he proclaimed to reporters in his office late Wednesday afternoon. “You understand of course that, speaking in terms of my research of Ireland and the first century, pretty much every hot piece of ass in the city is going to be drunk off her Uggs’n’leggings. Do you think for a minute that I want to miss that? Hell no.”

He then rose from his chair, tore open his robes to reveal a sparsely haired old man chest dyed green with food coloring and screamed “Cold beer!” until he passed out.

“I don’t even really know what my family’s heritage is,” he confided. “But I do know that beer tastes awesome. Add to that a vague excuse to pinch people I barely know, and you’ve got yourself one hell of a weekend.”

Representatives from a local beverage distributor declined to be named in this article, but alluded to efforts to come up with “some kind of a holiday where people can get shitfaced” in the month of April, bridging the gap between the holidays of St. Patrick’s in March and Cinco de Mayo, the South American feast of mayonnaise.

“It’s just a shame that no one drinks beer the rest of the year,” our source lamented. “At least we have holidays like St. Patrick’s to spice things up.”

PONCEY HIGHLANDS — For most of us, New Year’s Eve is a time for happiness. It is a time to gather together with good friends, a time to reflect on the year passed and the one to come. If one plays one’s cards right, it might even be a time to parlay the mood of year-end wistfulness into an ill-advised make-out session.

Yes, New Year’s Eve can be a great night. Great, that is, for everyone but the city’s drunks, who are even now steeling themselves for the onslaught of amateur drinkers set to infiltrate their favorite bars. Atlanta Banana reporters spoke to some of those drunks to gauge their reactions.

Chad P, Real Estate Agent - “It sucks. I don’t like having my routine of self-destruction thrown into sharp releif by a bunch of fleece-vest-wearing assholes who are enjoying their lives. They think they can just waltz in here and suck down a couple Sugar Crappletinis? Screw them.”

Alison H, Publicist - “I kind of like New Year’s Eve, actually. It brings in new prospects. I flirt with the right guy, he gives me a ride home, and then I give him the worst handjob ever conceived. Ever paid cab fare from the Highlands to Alpharetta? It ain’t cheap.”

Felicia D, Bartender - “I make a lot of money on New Year’s, but the amateurs don’t know how to order a drink. Hey sweetie, maybe ask your dizzy friends and your doofus boyfriend what they want before coming over to the bar and wasting my time, huh?”